


The Process of Losing and Gaining

by especiallythezefronposter



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Asexual Bruce, Asexuality, Contemplation of Suicide, Cuddling, F/M, Feels, Kissing, M/M, No Hulk, No Iron Man, Panic Attacks, tony swears sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/especiallythezefronposter/pseuds/especiallythezefronposter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is a high school teacher, Tony wants to quit his job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story I had in mind - in which all characters and pairings in the tags actually appear - will start at chapter 3, I think. I got a little carried away when I started to think about how Tony and Bruce met and this is the result. I hope you enjoy!

Bruce isn't having a good day. The skin around his mouth is sensitive because he has been wiping at his lips like crazy and there's a constant pressure on his eyes, as if the tears that he isn't allowing to spill are pushing around in his head until he lets them out. And then there's also the gun underneath the passenger seat in his car that he can't stop thinking about. 

He's put it against his temple before, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pull the trigger, but how he's feeling now... He knows that if he takes the lift to the underground parking garage, retrieves the gun and goes back to his room, the hotel staff will find him tomorrow with his brains splattered across the carpet.

He almost cries out in surprise when someone calls his name behind him, almost runs away, almost turns around and punches whoever it is, almost begs them for a reason to live. 

'Bruce Banner! I hadn't expected you to come. This must be the - what? Sixteenth time I invite you to a conference? Did you secretly turn up on all of the other ones and hid from me, or is this really the first time?' The man - Tony Stark - puts a hand on his shoulder, making Bruce stand still and turn to face him. His tone isn't accusing, just lighthearted.

'First time,' Bruce says with a chuckle. He's a good actor when he wants to be, when he shouldn't be. 'I thought maybe you'd stop inviting me if I came for once.' He doesn't mention that he's planning on being dead before Tony organizes another conference, keeps his tone as light as Tony's touch and avoids eye contact.

Tony drops his hand and starts walking towards the lifts, Bruce right beside him. 'Came to tell me to back the fuck off?', Tony asks with a playful half smile that makes Bruce's heart ache. He pushes the button of the lift and steps into the little cabin when the doors slide open. He doesn't take his eyes of Bruce as his fingers light up the button to the top floor, as if he knows exactly what he's doing. Bruce considers telling him he's actually going down to the parking garage, but he doesn't.

'Wanted to make sure I wasn't missing out on something good,' Bruce says softly. There's Muzak playing in the background and they're talking, but the lift still feels like silence. 

'And, does this seem like something good so far?' Tony's gaze is challenging, like it was years ago. It's comforting, just like everything else that is so incredibly _Tony_. 

They haven't seen each other since MIT, since the tense hours spent in dorm basement labs as they tried to out-genius each other, never being alone with each other anywhere else, always surrounding themselves with others, only communicating in glances and smirks over jokes that no one else was in on. Since that one time in the lab when Tony screwed up because he was upset about something and Bruce kissed him and they almost set the building on fire in their rush to clear a tabletop.

They haven't seen each other in ten years, but Tony has changed so little and it's more comforting than Bruce would've thought.

'So far,' Bruce agrees softly. He's not sure if it's a lie, if he's still acting.

Tony smiles and the lift doors slide open with a ping. Before Bruce can turn to push the -1 button, Tony's hand is resting on the small of his back and he is being lead towards one of the doors lining the hallway.

'You want to come in?', Tony asks, fishing for the key of his room in his jacket pocket, other hand curling around Bruce's waist almost as if it's something he does without really thinking about it.

Bruce knows Tony's reputation, knows what he's asking for and can't help but feel a tinge of disappointment when he realizes it's over already - this distraction. Soon Tony will close the door behind himself and Bruce will go back to the lift and have to face the decision of what floor he picks alone. 'I'm not - I don't like sex,' he admits, and he says it all wrong, as if it's something to be ashamed of, something that will surely disgust Tony.

'I was that good, huh?', Tony says with a smile that isn't disgust at all, it's distracted, or maybe it's supposed to distract whoever sees it, too keep them from noticing Tony's thinking five thousand miles an hour, making up a plan right under their nose. He waves his hand as if he's trying to dissolve what he just said like a cloud of smoke. 'No, no. I get it. You're asexual. It's okay.' His smile is strained and he looks almost nervous. 'You want to - You know we could just... cuddle? You okay with cuddling?'

Tony turns to the door, and it takes longer than it should for him to put the key in the lock.

Bruce should protest, should say that he doesn't need pity, that it isn't going to change anything, but getting out that many words seems impossible somehow. Tony is offering to stay with him for the night, make sure he'll still be alive by morning. He should just walk away now, before he adds another person to the list of people that will actually miss him when he offs himself, collateral damage. Instead he says, 'Yeah.'

Tony smiles at him, eyes moving over Bruce's face as if he's looking for something. The door opens softly and then clicks shut behind them. Tony drops the key on a coffee table - his suite is huge, with a mini bar and minimalist furniture and floor to ceiling windows. It's dark, but Tony doesn't turn on the lights and it's better like this, quieter. He pulls Bruce closer, kissing his shoulder before he steps away. 'I'm just getting a glass of water, okay? You want something?' He's already behind the bar by the time he asks the second question, glancing at Bruce with a glass in one hand and a bottle in the other.

Bruce shakes his head. 'I'm fine. Thanks.'

Tony takes a few swigs of his water and then sets his glass down, walks back to Bruce, taking his hand and pulling him into the bedroom. 'Let's get you ready for bed,' he mutters, standing in front of Bruce. He unbuttons his shirt and takes it of slowly, not breaking eye contact, then unbuckles his belt and slides his pants down, lets Bruce step out of them. 

'You keep your socks on?', Tony asks, looking up at Bruce as if it's the most important question. Bruce shakes his head, so Tony kneels down and pulls of Bruce's socks as Bruce lifts his feet. He rises again, looking childishly solemn when he lifts his hands to Bruce's glasses. 'Can I?' Bruce smiles somewhat encouragingly and nods. Tony takes of his glasses and carefully puts them on the bedside table.

Then Tony starts taking of his own clothes and Bruce is too stunned to help. Before, the room had only been lit by the faint lights of the moon and the city below, but now, Tony's arc reactor casts everything near them in a soft blue glow. His eyes are the most fascinating, sparkling like stars, so close that Bruce feels like he's supposed to be burning.

Tony is gently pulling him towards the bed and pushing him onto the mattress, tucking him in before he crawls under the covers himself. He is lying on his side, propped up on one elbow and looking at Bruce earnestly. 'In the lab, at MIT... You should've told me... I wouldn't have fucked you if had known you didn't want to.'

'I hadn't figured out...' Then he recognizes the worry in Tony's eyes, and something else, too. Insecurity. 'Tony, it's okay. I did want it.'

Tony sighs softly, smiling carefully. He snuggles up to Bruce, making himself comfortable and there's this coldness - this clenched hand around Bruce's heart - that loosens a little. 

'Were you really going to kill yourself?', Tony whispers into his shoulder, what could be seconds or hours later.

There's a long silence. Bruce's hand goes up to wipe at his mouth, but he pulls away before he does, his fingers brushing over his lips like an apology. 'I don't know,' he whispers back eventually, turning onto his side, towards Tony's warmth.

Tony's eyes are wide and honest when he reaches up to tangle a hand in Bruce's hair. 'Whatever makes you feel like you want to do it... I'll keep it away, okay? Even if it's just for tonight.'

That's not how it works, but Bruce wishes it did, so he kisses Tony's hair and whispers, 'Thank you.'

Tony kisses his collarbone. 'Goodnight.'

'Goodnight.'

\---

Bruce wakes up to the sound of Tony's gasping breaths and his legs kicking the covers away. It's confusing for a moment, until he finds his glasses where Tony left them, puts them on, looks around.

Tony is clawing at his own throat, his breaths shallow and wheezing as if he's drowning. His eyes are closed, but every line in his body screams confusion, disorientation. He is trying to speak, but his gasps are one-syllabled, strangled. 

'Tony! Tony, wake up!', Bruce tries, automatically reaching for Tony's shoulders. He pulls away almost immediately, because Tony starts to tug at his hands as if they are burning him. His eyes fly open as he gasps 'No!' and then something that sounds like 'Don't!', though it's hard to make out. His hands still, but his eyes flash around wildly before they settle on Bruce.

'You're in your hotel room,' Bruce says steadily. 'In Las Vegas. You're here for a conference about arc reactor technology. You're safe.' He caresses Tony's side, looking for a way to comfort him that won't scare him even more.

Tony is still breathing hard, but he's focusing on it now, and one of his hands slowly reaches for the one that Bruce is resting on his hipbone, intertwining his trembling fingers with Bruce's.

Tony's eyes drift to the ceiling, the lamp on the nightstand, the thick curtains, the silvery handles of the dresser doors, the roof of another hotel outside the window, looking everywhere but at Bruce, though he's absently playing with their tangled fingers. 'I'm sorry,' he says softly, breathlessly. 'The panic attacks don't usually come with the package. It's just that I've had to put up with Obie all day and he keeps mentioning...' His voice falters and Bruce has never seen him like this, vulnerable and struggling with words.

Bruce strokes his cheek. 'Don't be stupid,' he says, smiling fondly, his tone light. 'There's no reason to say sorry.'

Tony rolls his eyes and pats the bed beside him, smiling slightly, too, though it's fleeting and his hands haven't quite stopped shaking yet. 'Just lie back down, okay?' He pulls Bruce against his chest, Bruce's head now resting on his shoulder. 'I got kidnapped not so long ago, in Afghanistan.' He taps the arc reactor lightly. 'I had shrapnel -'

Bruce turns his head to look Tony in the eye, their noses almost bumping. 'You don't have to explain, Tony. Only if you want to.'

'Okay.' Some of the tension seems to seep out of him, muscles relaxing and eyes drifting to Bruce's lips as he wets his own. 'Hey, um...' Bruce can hear Tony swallow, but he can't look away from his eyes, can't even move. 'You mind kissing?', Tony asks softly.

'No,' Bruce whispers and then Tony is leaning in, pressing their lips together and Bruce responds almost automatically, reaching up to tangle both his hands in Tony's hair. The kiss is warm and nice and soft and it spreads a tingling feeling through all of his body, chasing away all the bad things that have been gnawing at him.

\---

When Bruce wakes up, the whole hotel room smells of pancakes. Tony is lying next to him, awake and smiling slightly. 'It's been a long time since you had a good night's sleep isn't it?'

Bruce nods, turning over to reach for his glasses. 'This whole thing is supposed to be weird, isn't it?'

'Yeah,' Tony says as he stands up. 'But it isn't.' There's a pause. 'I called room service. I wanted to cook myself, but I can't, honestly.'

Bruce gets out of bed, slowly, and follows Tony to the living room, where breakfast is spread out on a coffee table. There's a little piece of paper sticking out from underneath the plate Tony set for him. He picks it up carefully and turns to look at Tony when he sees the ten numbers, not sitting down. 'Isn't the whole point of this that we'll never see each other again?', he asks carefully. Giving Bruce his number somehow seems like too big a step, like whatever they are doing suddenly becomes _more_ , too much.

'Of course, but you've got a gun in your car and if you ever consider using it, you can call me, okay? I - I know I'm not your first choice, but just... I'm there, okay?'

Bruce closes his eyes. 'Thank you,' he says softly. He wants to ask how Tony knows about the gun, but then he feels Tony's arms snaking around his waist from behind and his lips pressing kisses on his shoulder and neck. Bruce shudders and he almost says something stupid, like _God, Tony, I love you_. He doesn't even know where it's coming from. He hadn't been friends with Tony, they had barely ever talked back at MIT, and even if they had, they have both gone through a lot since then. They don't know each other, not really. It doesn't make sense to come rushing in with words like _love_ at this point - or any point, for that matter - so Bruce pushes it down and turns his head for a slow, lazy kiss, morning breath be damned.

'Shouldn't you be somewhere else? Since you're hosting this conference and all?', he asks, his lips brushing against Tony's.

Tony smiles, kissing Bruce another few times. 'Totally. Pepper is going to be mean to me all day.' He slowly pulls away from Bruce and sits down on the couch, waiting to speak until Bruce does the same. His face has turned earnest and Bruce can't look away when he asks, 'You're going to be all right, aren't you? I'm not going to try and invite you to something lame and find out you're dead?'

Bruce's eyes flutter shut as he drags a hand across his face, suddenly feeling tired. 'I don't know, Tony. It's not like one all night make out session is suddenly going to make everything okay. It's not - It doesn't work that way.'

Tony sighs. 'I could set you up with a psychiatrist or something.'

It's the sincerity in Tony's eyes, the genuine desire to help, that floods Bruce with guilt. 'I know,' he says, voice trembling only slightly.

Tony's hand is on his knee, begging him to look up, and he does, meeting Tony's eyes again. 'Let me help.'

'There's - I have to fix this myself, Tony.'

'What if you can't?' Tony's voice sounds almost like a child's, trembling with something that could be fear or frustration.

Bruce tries to smile and pats the piece of paper. 'Then I'll call you.'

Tony seems to relax a little at that and kisses him on his forehead before he goes to get dressed. Bruce is back in his own room by the time he's done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for contemplation of suicide and this one scene in which Tony swears a lot.

Tony is the one that calls Bruce, eventually. It's been five months since the conference in Las Vegas, since Bruce left Tony's hotel room, packed his bags and got into his car. Since he stopped on the first empty bridge he came across and dropped six bullets into the river below, then a gun that barely seemed to weigh anything with the deadliest part taken out.

There were plenty of times he regrets it, of course, times he plans to get another gun or searches his medicine cabinet for anything that can kill him if only he swallows enough of it and washes it down with vodka. Whenever that happens he stares at the crumpled piece of paper that has Tony's number on it until he is composed enough to call Betty. She has been his best friend since high school and doesn't panic when he tells her what he was thinking about, just comes over to his apartment and holds him tight.

Still, he has started at Tony's number for long enough to recognize it when it appears on his phone screen. For a moment he just stands there, phone buzzing in his hand, lump forming in his throat. Tony wouldn't call him if it wasn't completely necessary, wouldn't go through the trouble of finding his number if there were other options.

He brings the phone to his ear, his voice sounding small. 'Tony?'

'Hey.' Tony's voice is hoarse as if he has been screaming. 'Bruce. Could I crash at yours tonight? I wouldn't ask if... Pepper told me not to stay at any of my own houses and I thought...'

His voice trails off and it takes Bruce a moment to fill in the silence that follows, too focused on Tony's voice to process his words immediately, his head too fogged with relief to think of and answer right away. 

Tony's apologies, his _it's okay_ s and _I can call someone else_ s are almost leaving his lips when Bruce finally whispers, 'Of course you can, Tony. Of course. Where are you? Do I need to pick you up somewhere?'

He can almost see how Tony waves his hand at the other side of the line as he says, 'No, no. It's fine. I'll be there in ten, if that's okay.' His voice breaks and Bruce wants to reach over, wants to make it all okay, but he can't.

'Do you have my address?', he asks instead.

Tony laughs, and it's the sound that will haunt Bruce in the next ten minutes, thin and trembling and almost a sob. 'Yeah. I'll see you soon.'

\---

When he opens the door more or less ten minutes later, Tony's eyes meet his briefly, then he bows his head to study Bruce's front steps.

'I wouldn't ask this of you if I had any other options but,' he says, as if he's reading it from the tile. His voice is so hoarse that it might fall away completely any moment and Bruce wonders who could've made Tony angry enough to make that happen. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat, looking up and forcing his expression into an apologetic smile, arms spread. 'I seem to be a little short on options at the moment.' His voice trembles at the beginning of his sentence, but he regains himself.

'It's alright,' Bruce whispers, stretching out an arm to tug at Tony's hand, half expecting him to disappear at his touch. 'C'mere.' He pulls Tony inside and into his arms, pushing the door shut with his foot.

For a moment Tony just clings to him, lets Bruce wrap his arms around him, makes himself small until he fits into the joining of Bruce's neck and shoulder as if he belongs there.

When he pulls away his eyes are rimmed red and Bruce can't quite stop telling him he's safe here.

Tony takes a deep, shuddering breath, smiles at Bruce almost cheerfully. As he turns and walks away, towards the kitchen, he wipes away his tears. 'Smells good,' he says, turning his head to look at Bruce, still smiling. 'Chicken curry, right?'

Bruce nods and picks up Tony's bag where he dropped it before he follows him to the kitchen.

\---

After dinner, Bruce goes to make the bed in the guest room and when he comes back, Tony has turned on an album that Bruce didn't know he owns. He gets up when Bruce enters, eyes clearer than before, and kicks off his shoes. Bruce is already barefoot, his toes curling into the softness of the thick rug lying between the couches as he makes his way towards Tony. The coffee table is shoved aside and there are arms wrapping around necks and arms slipping around waists and feet shuffling out of rhythm and soft chuckles drifting towards the ceiling.

Neither of them bothered to turn on the light, but Bruce didn't quite shut the living room door behind himself and in the light coming from the hallway, Tony is all smooth gold and sparkling eyes. He smiles with all of his teeth. 'You're an awful dancer,' he says.

Bruce chuckles, licking his lips as he considers his answer. 'I should say something witty about you being worse but you're really... not terrible.'

Tony leans closer, his smile softening into something Bruce recognizes from long ago, playful. He can feel the distance between them now, the inch he has to cross before their foreheads are touching, the hair that could barely fit between their noses, the space between their lips, where their breath mingles before they breathe it in again. 'Do I hear a note of surprise there, Dr. Banner?'

‘You should’ve danced –‘

Tony's phone starts buzzing, the room suddenly bathing in violent blue light coming from the small screen on the coffee table. His hands tighten around Bruce for a moment, and then he pulls away, slowly. His fingers linger on Bruce's hand as if he doesn't want to let him go, but Bruce doesn't follow when Tony walks over to his phone, can already feel the cold.

The buzzing stops and Tony puts the phone to his ear. 'Pepper,' he says and their eyes meet across the room. Tony's gaze is hollow, even when his voice sounds relieved, but Bruce can't look away. 'Are you at Nat's?' There's a pause and Tony smiles at him, brief and tired. 'Yeah, he's good...' When Tony continues, his voice is almost a whisper, almost nothing at all. 'He really did that. Your gift actually saved my life...' Bruce can see a shiver run down Tony's spine, but doesn't look away. 'That was all him...' 

Tony grows a little bigger, a little less empty at the answer he gets and stuffs one hand in his pocket, takes it back out. 'I only wanted to skin him, honestly, but I can get on board with your idea, too... He can have Stark fucking Industries. I never wanted it.' He takes a deep breath and finally looks away from Bruce, turning is head to study the books on a shelve near him, tracing the spines distractedly. 'I love you, too... My lawyers are already on it. Tomorrow I'll sign everything over to him and then we'll move on to something that doesn't ruin our lives, okay?' He glances at Bruce again, but his eyes are already back on the bookshelf when he whispers 'I love you' again.

He drops the phone, but the clattering is part of the silence somehow, and Bruce feels like he's part of it, too, for a moment. Tony's eyes don't see him when he says, 'There's this guy named Obediah Stane. I've known him all my life. He tried to kill me.' His eyes focus and for a moment he just waits, as if he thinks Bruce will say something terrible, but then he walks back towards him, pulling him close. 'You're not going to sleep in the guest room, are you? You aren't going to leave me?'

Bruce cards his fingers through Tony's hair, his _no_ unspoken but still there, still loud and clear.

\---

Before Tony kisses him, Bruce asks if Pepper and him are together.

Tony shrugs, then shakes his head, and Bruce doesn't know why he feels relieved.

\---

When Bruce wakes up, it's still dark and he's the only one in the bed. He as he stretches to reach his glasses, his chest brushes against the cold tangle of the sheets.

He has found him as soon as he opens the bedroom door. His voice comes from the living room, so hoarse that the sound fades away sometimes. When it's there, it sounds angry and he mostly speaks in different variations of the word 'fuck'.

Bruce stops in the doorframe, watching Tony where he is kneeling on the rug and murmuring threats to small silvery things that Bruce only recognizes when he sits down beside Tony. Tony has his alarm clock in hand and its cartwheels and screws are scattered across the floor. 

Tony looks at Bruce for a moment, barely long enough to register him. 'I broke your clock,' he says, picking up a screw, studying it and dropping it again with an irritated 'motherfucker'. 'Went to get a glass of water and knocked it right of the nightstand. Happened once when I was five and trying to sneak into my parent's bed. I fixed it then, but I can't do it now. Isn't that fucking ridiculous?' He finally looks back at Bruce, a wild look in his eyes. 'My dad was yelling at me and I just sat down on the floor and put the thing back together. Now _I'm_ the one that's drunk out of his mind and I still can't do it. Dad made cars fucking fly for fucking fuck's sake and he did that drinking whiskey, not wine.' He picks up the wine bottle standing beside him and takes a swig. 'He could hold up against Obediah fucking Stane drunk and I was sober and still screwed up. _Fucking fuck_!' He throws a little cartwheel across the room. 'This is bullshit.'

'Tony, hey,' Bruce whispers as he takes Tony's clenched fist in his hand before he can slam it into the rug. 'I'll help you, okay. We'll fix it together.' He takes the almost empty wine bottle with him when he goes to retrieve the cartwheel and leaves it on a bookshelf at the other side of the room. 'Just take a look at the clock itself, okay?', he says as he sits down beside Tony again. 'What's missing?'

Tony wipes at his eyes and takes a deep breath. 'This one,' he whispers, picking up a piece.

His hands are trembling slightly, but he easily puts it back in place. Everything is better from there. Tony barely even has to think about what piece he puts where and works while he talks to Bruce.

'I told you about Obediah Stane, right?' Tony leans back until he's settled against Bruce's chest, taking the fixed clock apart again, fingers flying without hesitation. 'He wants to take over Stark Industries. I knew that already, I'm not blind, but I thought he'd come up with a scandal, ruin my reputation, send me off to jail, I don't know... Instead he tried to kill me. He took out the arc reactor and left me to die. I never thought he'd do that.' His tone is matter-of-factly, his eyes empty and focused on the clock that he is putting back together again. When he's done, he sets the thing down and reaches around, realizing the bottle is gone. He looks back at Bruce, his confused frown fading into one of regret. 'I'm sorry,' he says, pulling up his legs and curling up against Bruce. 'For dragging you into this shitshow, you deserve better.' He's asleep in before Bruce can come up with something to say.

Bruce carries him to bed and tucks him in, stroking the hair out of Tony's eyes before he settles beside him.

\---

The next day there's a meeting at Stark Industries and Tony talks Bruce into coming with embarrassing ease.

The thing lasts five hours that mostly consist of Tony's and Stane's lawyers reading over contracts while Stane smiles smugly at Tony and Tony smiles back with teeth that look like ice breaking beneath feet. When he eventually gets up to sign the document that makes Stark Industries Obie's, he does it with the kind of flourish only Tony Stark could manage in a situation like this.

Stane tells an assistant to escort them out after that and Bruce can almost feel the air freeze. Tony walks back to Obie slowly, stretching out the uncomfortable silence. 'I have walked these halls since I _could_ walk. Every person in this company knows me. If I were you I'd replace them fast, or they'll eat you raw. Pity you can't replace the public...' That awful smile is back, and it's fitting, because Obie looks as if he's drowning in ice cold water, even if it only shows in his eyes. 'They have sharp teeth.'

Bruce has never seen Tony angry before, and this, the viciousness in Tony's voice, chills him to the bone. He guesses it shouldn't surprising, simply another thing Tony excels at when he puts his mind to it.

By the time they are at the exit, Tony's hands are shaking, his breathing shallow. When Bruce glances at him, he says, 'I'm not having a panic attack. It's not like that.' He almost chokes on his words, gasps for breath.

'Then what's it like?', Bruce asks softly.

Tony doesn't answer until they're at the car, until they've gotten in and Tony has the wheel to clutch. 'I cry when I get angry. And I'm shit at holding back tears. Well, normally I'm not, but now is just...' He takes a deep breath, almost smiling. Bruce knows that feeling, the corners of your mouth forcing themselves up, laughter pushing its way past your lips because your body doesn't know what to do if it isn't allowed to cry.

'You don't have to,' Bruce says softly. 'hold back your tears.'

Tony does laugh now, starts the car. 'Crying behind the wheel is hardly safe.'

Bruce doesn't offer to switch places, because he knows Tony needs to be in control of _something_. He'd rather have a car crash than take that away from him. And he trusts Tony, he realizes suddenly. He isn't surprised, it's just the first time that he thinks of it that way.

A silence falls and remains until they're out of the parking lot and two blocks away. Until every part of Stark Industries is hidden behind other buildings. Then Bruce asks, 'What are you going to do, Tony?'

Tony doesn't answer for a long time and Bruce thinks he didn't hear him. Then Tony glances at him and back at the road, his eyes haunted. 'I'll do a press conference, make sure everyone understands why they wouldn't want Stark Industries to manufacture weapons again, so that Obie can't walk that road without causing a massive shitstorm and a drop in market shares he can't afford. Then I'll tell them the show's over, that the curtains will close and they won't want to open them again.'

He's silent for a moment, realizing that it's not enough of an answer. 'I've got a mansion not that far from your home. It's - I haven't been there for a while, but I'm sure it can be made livable by tomorrow. You can come, too, if you want. There's a lab and much more stuff to play with than what's in your average chemistry classroom. I don't have to work to get by, but it sounds kinda good, doesn't it? Doing something my father didn't plan out for me. I could become a teacher.' He turns his head to grin at Bruce. 'Kids love me.'

Bruce can tell from the way Tony looks at him that he knows what he's implying. Bruce is a high school teacher. They could be colleagues. 'How do you know all that? My number, my address, my job, that I have a gun in my car...' He has wanted to ask that since Las Vegas and now is hardly a good time, but at least it's one question answered.

'JARVIS runs scans on every hotel I stay in. One day he informed me that one of the guns he had found on the first scan was loaded now, so we checked who owned it. And the personal data...' He smiles almost apologetically. 'I might have hacked into the army's files on you and then deleted them from their servers.'

Bruce isn't sure what to say to that. 'Thanks,' is what eventually comes out. 

The car stills and Bruce is confused for a moment, until he realizes they're at the airport. He feels tired all of a sudden, and can see the same thing in the lines around Tony's mouth and the shades under his eyes. He only missed one night's sleep, but if Tony is anything like he was in college, he might've been avoiding sleep for days.

They have already boarded Tony's private jet and taken of when Bruce asks. 'Did you just ask me to move in with you?'

Tony leans his head back against the pale leather seat and yawns before he says, 'I don't think an hour ago still counts as 'just', but yeah, I guess so.'

Bruce forgets to answer, just stares.

Tony moves as if he wants to lift his head but then decides against it and just grins at Bruce. 'Come on, it can't be that bad. You've already seen me at my worst. It's not like I'm going to lose my dad's company every day.'

'It's not that... It's just - You haven't seen _me_ at my worst.'

Tony does lift his head this time, and his smile is gentle. 'We'll take it one day at a time, okay? If worse comes to worst, we'll deal with it.'

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a song by Before Today, that honestly doesn't have much to do with this fic. It just sounds cool.
> 
> I want to make clear that asexuality - just like any other sexual orientation - isn't the same for anyone, so don't base your knowlege of asexuality on this fic alone. If you'd like to find out more, I could help you on the way with this (http://tinyurl.com/k85dht4) series of articles that can give you a general idea of what asexuality is.


End file.
